AN: I was initially pretty reluctant to embark on this project given George R.R. Martin's stance on fanfiction, but I had what I'd like to think were some pretty good ideas (although I guess you'll be the judge of that) and after writing a rough drafts of a couple of chapters and I was so happy with the result that I decided to go for it. This is something of an experiment and because it is my first fanfic, so I'd really appreciate any feedback!
There was a certain level of collaboration with a few folks in terms of both bouncing ideas and helping with certain chapters. Speaking of which, I want to give a shout out a really great guy by the name of Lumine for contributing some excellent ideas and letting me incorporate them into the story.
I'd also like to give a few "warnings." First, spoilers abound for all five books and all five seasons. There are aspects of book cannon and aspects of show cannon in this story. I generally went with whichever worked best when the two conflicted (ex: I used the show's character ages, but Aegon exists in this story). Second, this is obviously going to be a "loads and loads of characters" story. Don't worry if one of your favorites doesn't appear right away, chances are they'll show up sooner or later.
I own nothing. I give all the credit in the world to George R.R. Martin, D&D, Bryan Cogman, Vanessa Taylor, Jane Espenson, Dave Hill, Maisie Williams, Peter Dinklage, Jack Gleeson, and everyone else who has done to bring this incredible world to life. I hope you have as much fun reading this story as I've been having writing it!
Tywin
How many more of these tedious affairs must I suffer through? Two more, at least. Once Jaime comes to his senses, he must needs marry a suitable bride. And even if the Tyrells can't be made to see reason and consent to a marriage between Cersei and Willas, she must needs be wedded to a suitable husband before she grows barren. As it stands, Stannis Baratheon's lies have already diminished her value considerably. Still...a proper marriage should put those disgusting rumors to rest once and for all.
Offering her to Prince Oberyn might be sufficient to persuade the Martells to move past whatever...differences our Houses may have had during Robert's Rebellion. No...Myrcella has already been promised to Prince Trystane, offering Cersei as well would be far too much for a House that continues to show such hostility. Robin Arryn may prove suitable in a few years once he has come of age.
The Hand of the King had always hated weddings and his grandson's was no exception. The sensible thing would be to do away with them entirely in favor of a simple bedding ceremony. It would serve the same purpose while eliminating the frivolous expenses that are a staple of every wedding. It couldn't very well be any worse than this mummer's farce which has done nothing but swallow up gold dragons at a time when the crown finds itself deeply in debt. But he was a Lannister of Casterly Rock and Lannisters did not have the luxury of counting coppers. Things are expected of me, extravagant displays of wealth among them. And so I will do my duty and suffer this wedding as I have so many others. That is what a good man does when faced with a distasteful task: his duty.
Despite his best efforts to teach them, he could not seem to impress that fact upon any of his children. In time, Jaime will learn...even if it requires a sharp lesson. He may hate me for it, but one way or another, he will learn...
Cersei has been an even greater disappointment. She expects to be trusted with real power and responsibility when she can't even control her own son. She will sing songs of doing one's duty when it suits her, but when she was informed that the time had come for her to be re-married, her conduct was near as bad as Tyrion's.
Tyrion...disappointment is far too kind a word for that misshapen, spiteful, little beast who murdered his mother to come into this world. Tyrion has always been content to spend his days drinking and whoring and yet when given an opportunity to contribute to the future of his House by indulging his base appetites, he couldn't be bothered to put a baby in the Stark girl.
In time, he will get her with child and secure the North. Sooner or later, he will drink to excess as is his custom and his animal lusts will overpower his childish desire to spite me. Once the Stark girl has given him a son, they will ride for Winterfell and he will replace Roose Bolton as Warden of the North. Lord Bolton certainly won't be in a position to cause him any trouble. No Northman will fight for House Bolton after the Red Wedding. Even if Lord Bolton hadn't been a participant, they won't soon forget what happens to Northmen who take up arms against House Lannister.
The only danger is that Tyrion might find a way – with his japes, his drinking, and his whoring – to make the Northerners forget that we are a House to be feared. Rather than contribute to the betterment of his House, he proudly holds himself up for ridicule. Lannisters do not act like fools! A House that allows itself to be publicly mocked by allies and enemies alike is a House that no man fears. And fear is all that keeps a man alive when he has as many enemies as we have in the North.
Tywin noticed that a silence had fallen upon the room and turned his head just in time to see the King approaching Tyrion with a goblet of wine in hand. The King proceeded to dump the wine on his uncle's head before naming his uncle as his cupbearer to the delight of the crowd. Nothing angered Tywin half so much as the sound of men laughing at a Lannister of Casterly Rock...even the lowest among them, but he held his tongue...something neither the King nor his youngest son had ever been capable of doing. The bloody fools deserve each other...
Mercifully, the madness that briefly threatened to turn the proceedings into a mummer's farce had abated by the time the servants brought in the next course. Pigeon pie...pheasant pie...partridge pie...some sort of bird, from the looks of it. Naturally, the King insisted upon cutting it open with his sword. A flock of birds flew out of the pie and the crowd applauded. Small things amuse small minds, I suppose. In any case, there go the only foes the boy is capable of defeating in battle. Tywin stared at the goblet of wine in front of him, sitting untouched as it had all day. Mayhaps I can still make it through the day without emptying it.
The sight of Cersei rising from her seat and drunkenly hobbling over to the King and Queen quickly disabused him of any such notions. She appeared to be attempting to make some sort of toast judging by the fact that she had grabbed her son's goblet and was holding it in the air as he scowled at her. She was slurring so many words that it was impossible to make out what she was saying save for "be cold in that dress" or some such non-sense. There is still hope for Jaime, but Tyrion and Cersei are plainly a lost cause. Tyrion will live out his days in the barren wasteland the Starks once called their home. If his sole contribution is to put a baby in Sansa Stark and whatever remains of Winterfell into a whorehouse, so be it. As for Cersei, she will be sent to the Rock until such time as a suitable husband has been found. When the time comes, she'll do her duty if I have to have her dragged to the sept kicking and screaming.
Having apparently concluded her "toast," Cersei began to drink whatever wine remained in the King's goblet as the Lord of Casterly Rock emptied his own and silently made a toast of his own. A man whose sole ambition in life is to serve as a glorified bodyguard, a woman who would rather don motley and act the fool than marry, and a dwarf who murdered his mother to come into this world. My children... As Cersei began coughing, plainly unable to swallow without choking and making an even greater fool of herself, Tywin rose from his seat.
"Enough of...*cough*...stop this...*cough*...madness...*cough* *cough*...the...*cough*...wine," he wheezed.
Suddenly, Cersei fell to the ground and a panic descended upon the room as she coughed up what might have been blood. Tywin gasped for breath and struggled to retain his composure as his throat grew tighter and tighter. He clutched the dais, as much to keep himself from clawing open his own throat as to remain standing. Will die upright...*cough*...with dignity...*cough*...like a...a Lan...Lannis...*cough* *cough*...a Lan...
By the time he began coughing up blood, he had grown too weak to hold onto the dais. Tyrion will...inherit, Tywin realized as he lay on the ground in an ever-larger pool of blood and bile, his limbs flailing about like fish out of water. All will...will be...undone. He opened his mouth to curse the Gods for this cruel jape, but the only sound that emerged was a nearly inaudible moan. His body's sharp, jerking movements gave way to small, infrequent twitches. The pain was so great that coherent thought became impossible until it finally stopped and the world went black.